Provocative Passion

“We know Paul Hertz wasn’t at the top of this thing, Sophia,” Roy Poltice said matter-of-factly. “Our new D.A. is on a mission to weed out every bad seed she can find. If she hadn’t made contact with you about it yet, she will soon.”

Commissioner Meeks set his coffee on the saucer with a slight clatter. “We know there’re more rats to be shaken out of this blanket, Detective. When it’s all said and done, we want to be able to show that we’re taking this seriously and that we’re determined to give the force a clean face again.”

“So this is all for appearance sake?” Sophia asked.

“This is about initiative.” Chief Franklin nodded to Captain Poltice. “We’re all in agreement about the fine way you took charge and followed your instincts in getting to the bottom of an injustice.

“And you got results besides,” the chief continued. “You followed every aspect of the case to the letter. Cole’s and Hertz’s attorneys will be hard-pressed to find any improprieties within the investigation.

“Using information we’ve yet to uncover to strike a deal for a lesser sentence is the only leverage they could possibly have. We’d like to take that away from them.” Chief Franklin stirred his black coffee. “Take the forty-eight hours, Detective. Get used to the idea and give us the official call so we can give the media something else to salivate over.”

The breakfast platters arrived, and, after a momentary clatter of plates next to mugs as they were set on the table, the group prepared to dive in.

Sophia watched as the three heavyset men showered their food with salt before they’d even tasted it. “I have just one more question,” she said after eating heartily for several minutes.

“Anything, Detective.” Captain Poltice added butter to his hash browns.

Sophia washed down eggs and toast with a swig of coffee. “As chief of detectives, will I have the chance to take part in the occasional bust?”

Silence hovered over the table until Roy Poltice’s healthy frame began to shake. In seconds, all three of the high-ranking officers were deep in the clutches of ribald laughter. Sophia joined in moments later.

Chapter 3

Santigo’s conversation with Linus following their meeting with the architects went on for a while longer and ended with drinks in Linus’s office. Neither man wanted to admit that it was far too early in the day to be breaking the seal on a bottle of bourbon, but Tigo appreciated that Linus understood his trying predicament.

The partners indulged lightly but joyfully until Tigo remembered he had another meeting to attend. Linus was very persuasive, but Tigo admirably refused another round of the fine liquor.

“Carl and Lester are already inside,” Jenny Boyce’s childlike voice chirped out the information when Tigo arrived in the private lobby outside his office.

Tigo checked the platinum timepiece around his wrist. “They been waiting long?” he asked his assistant.

“Not more than five minutes.” Jenny moved from behind her desk to help her boss straighten his tie. “They don’t look so good.” She spoke in a hushed tone.

That was news indeed since the two crew chiefs were known for their comedic wit and easy smiles. As Tigo’s main responsibilities put him in contact with union reps and oftentimes tense negotiations, working with a laid-back duo like Carl and Lester was one of the few joys his job provided.

“Thanks, Jen.” Tigo smoothed down the attractive olive-green tie with its subtle markings and cleared his throat while pushing open the double doors to his office.

“Gentlemen,” he called out to Carl Roche and Lester Bradford. He made his way across the wide expanse of the room to shake hands with the two men, who waited before the gargantuan desk in the rear.

“Coffee? Somethin’ stronger?” Tigo offered.

“Nah, thanks, T.”

It didn’t take much more than those few words from Carl for Tigo to share Jenny’s assessment of the men’s moods. “Is there trouble brewing in the ranks?” he asked.

“This isn’t union business,” Carl said.

“It’s personal,” Lester tacked on.

Tigo shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie. “Talk to me,” he offered in the blunt, inviting and informal manner all Joss Construction employees had come to love about him.

“You remember my boy Kenny?” Lester asked as he, Tigo and Carl took seats.

Tigo smiled, nodding from his perch at the edge of his desk. “How is he?”

“Working.” Lester’s smile hinged between pride and something akin to sorrow. “Last year in high school. He’s working for Greenway Construction.”

“Ugh.” Tigo twisted his face into a playful frown. “Working for the enemy, huh?”

“Hmph, in more ways than one.”

Tigo’s amusement transitioned quickly into agitation. “What’s goin’ on, Les?”

Lester braced his elbows on the knees of his khaki work pants and smoothed a hand back over his dark, balding head. “Some weeks back, Ken went to Carl’s son, Ian, about makin’ some extra money.”

“Right.” Tigo nodded, knowing that Ian Roche was one of their part-time crew members. “We don’t own him, fellas. Ian’s free to work with another company if he wants to.”

“That ain’t the problem, T.” Carl Roche’s face was a bit flushed beneath his honey-toned complexion. “The extra money wasn’t from a construction job, but some...errand, and both the boys are sittin’ downtown right now in a cell on a carjacking charge.”

Tigo blinked—stunned. He knew the kids had taken work to earn extra money for college. To help their parents, both boys had agreed to start school a year later in order for their folks to get better prepared before they were hit with the expense.

“What can I do?” Tigo leaned forward, shifting his gaze between the two men.

The worried fathers traded uncertain looks. “We were hoping you could tell us, T.” Carl Roche sighed.

“The public defenders on the boys’ case are useless.” Lester slumped back in his chair. “Judge says he wants to make an example of ’em.”

“They haven’t been in trouble before, have they?”

The fathers shook their heads in unison.

“So what possessed ’em to do somethin’ so knuckleheaded?”

“The boys swear they didn’t know a damn thing about the truck being stolen,” Lester insisted.

“So how did this go down?” Santigo left his desk and assumed his place behind it. “Did they get pulled?”

Lester nodded. “Cops say it was a routine stop.”

Carl grunted an ill-humored laugh. “Yeah, I guess even in the twenty-first century, two young black men driving around town in the wee hours of the morning still looks suspicious.”

“Cops ran the plates. Truck came up stolen.” Lester massaged the bridge of his nose.

“Hell...” Tigo ran a hand across his cheek while shaking his head. “What do the guys have to say?”

“Claim they were set up or some mess....”

Tigo frowned and looked to Carl for more clarification.